


Witch Of The Wilds

by Joshlertraash



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Junkenstein, Junkenstein's Revenge, Multi, Overwatch - Freeform, i dont know, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joshlertraash/pseuds/Joshlertraash
Summary: A band of evil comes together to destroy the town of AdlerbrunnSo naturally, a band of heroes is called togetherCan the wanders truly win against the Witch and her minions and save the town?_My version of the Junkenstein comic





	Witch Of The Wilds

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is, I kinda wrote it on a whim. 
> 
> In this story Genji is a demon by Mercy's creation, so he is one of her servants. Although, that might change in the sequel ;)

“You look awful,” The Witch of the Wild sighed, laying down next to the mutilated man, or what was left of him. There was a wicked glint in her blue eyes, her skin looking a wicked orange from her illuminated wings. She sighed, unhooking the leatherbound book from her side. It hovered in front of her, her gloved hands no longer holding it. It flipped to the page she scanned it over, reading the contract over her loyal servant. A smile took over her pale lips, the man beneath her struggled to breathe with blood filling his lungs. He wasn’t much of a man. Many of his limbs gashed beyond repair. “Your time is not up,” She said sweetly, meeting her crystalline eyes with the dying man’s. “My servants never die.” 

A yellow light engulfed the man beneath her. She smiled, stepping back on sharp heels. The man gasped and screamed, his body convulsing as her powers brought him violently back to living. The glow receded and the man lying there shocked, his brown eyes wide under heavy brows, green hair splayed around his head. His scarred chest rose and fell quickly. 

Red markings decorated under his eyes, fang’s protruding from his lips. The witch traced over the small red horns protruding from under his scattered bangs. “Ah, my little Oni, you’re back.” 

The man groaned, eyes slipping shut and breathing steadying. “You should stop picking fights you can’t win,” the witch sighed loudly, standing up. She looked around the courtyard where her servant had been struck down. Bodies in much worse shape were scattered around. Even if her servant had been taken out, he’d destroyed so many of them she would’ve been quite impressed. 

She kneeled again, leaving a soft kiss on the demon’s cheek. 

“Witch,” A voice growled from behind her, black smoke swelled around her and the demon she kneeled with. 

“Ah, Reaper,” She smiled softly, standing up. She turned to face the figure looming behind her. She smiled up at the grotesque pumpkin face the Reaper wore. “Just in time.” 

He stood silently as she stepped around him, wings brushing by him. She spread them, summoning her staff as well. “Bring the demon, please.” She chirped. The Reaper glanced at the man laying on the ground, with horns, sinister markings, and lying in a pool of blood, Reaper failed to see what was so special about him. He was a sad, wounded child that happened to capture the interest of the witch. It was pathetic, truly. He grabbed the demon, carrying the heavy sleeping figure over his shoulder. 

The witch stopped in the moonlight, the cold light bathing her stunning figure. Clashing with the hot colors of her wings and clothes. “Reaper, the time is coming soon. You can feel it too.”

“Yes,” Reaper grunted, stepping beside her, cloak fluttering in the chilling breeze. The witch grinned, pale pink lips spread over glistening teeth. 

“We have more to find, come on Gabriel.” She beckoned Reaper forward, using his real name. He bit back a hiss and followed. His true name making his head swim in a painful confusing way. Growling away his thoughts, he adjusted the demon ninja over his shoulder and followed the glowing witch down the rough paths of the kingdom. 

Their time was coming. 

____

 

The lord of Adlerbrunn watched the twitchy doctor pace in front of him. His good eye followed Jamison Junkenstein as he explained more and more about his new automatons. They were like the others, mindless robots. The doctor finished and puffed his chest out proudly, hoping for a pleasant response. 

The Lord sighed a long deep sigh, closing his eyes. He held no fondness of the wild doctor. But his machines came in handy to do labor that was strenuous for the townspeople. “Very well, Junkenstein. Put them with the others and collect your pay.” 

“W-with the others?” The doctor asked, frowning at the man sitting atop a throne. “To be slaves?” 

“They are machines, Jamison, not slaves.” The Lord stated gruffly, signaling for his guard to come and escort the doctor. “Brigitte, please see that the doctor gets his money and returns home.” The Lord said, eyeing the doctor. The knight bowed her head and walked out of the throne room with the scientist. 

 

Jamison stormed around his home, kicking trinkets and bolts around the place in his rage. “He can’t just treat my zomnics like slaves!” He ranted to himself, stomping down the stairs to a dark cellar, a large metal table with a white sheet covering it centered the room. “I’ll show them.”

He stomped over to the dials and pulleys all connected to the table, he pressed the buttons and turned the dials, double checking it all. This would be his masterpiece. “I will make you live! Then he cannot treat you as a slave,” The doctor grumbled as he worked, finally pulling off the sheet. 

What lay under was a grotesque vague human shape, pulled together with haunting stitches. Rotting dead flesh and organs were sewn together with pig parts, creating a monster capable of life. Or should be capable of life, Jamison just had to get the equation just right. “Don’t you worry, old friend. Our time will come soon enough. We’ll show them all.” 

__

The Alchemist pulled her down her hood slightly and dashed across the cobbled streets of Adlersbrunn. Her young daughter trailing behind excitedly. “Careful, Fareeha,” The alchemist whispered, catching the young girls hand as she reached towards the window of a shop. “This place is not our home.” 

Ana Amari was a famed alchemist, where the art was still legal of course. As science had grown, the want for her skills lessened, more and more found her concoctions a nuisance. Adlersbrunn was the closest village that hadn’t banned her practice, and she needed all the safety she could get. 

The moon was high in the sky, the village quiet and sleepy as the mother and daughter darted through the shadows. An inn glowed at the end of the street, capturing Ana’s attention, she grasped Fareeha’s hand once again and tugged her sleepy daughter towards the inn. “Here we are dear, we can sleep here.” 

“Momma, someone is whispering,” Fareeha said in a startled voice, the girl was a young 10 years old with her imagination running wild, but Ana felt it too. A looming dark presence was whispering on the breeze, and her daughter could hear it. The alchemist shuddered and pulled her daughter close. 

“They will leave you alone inside, let us go,” Ana said quietly, walking quickly towards the inn. 

But Fareeha liked the sweet melodic voice that danced on the wind, she smiled behind her, suddenly seeing a female silhouette step out from the shadows. The shadow lifted a hand, Fareeha happily waved back. 

__

The gunslinger slammed down his drink and swiped at his beard. The bartender arched a brow at him, waiting for him to continue his story. “Werewolves are hard to kill, the sons of bitches got thick skin and even thicker skulls. But,” He grinned wickedly at the lady and pulled out a bullet from his pocket, “If ya got silver it’s over for the dogs.” 

“What an interesting story,” A voice mocked from down a few stools. The bartender giggled and turned away, leaving the gunslinger to scowl at the man. 

“Who said it was a story?” The gunslinger growled, standing up to sit closer to the stranger. Though, he too was a stranger, passing through Adlersbrunn, always on the hunt. “Werewolves are very real.” 

The sharp-faced man looked up at the gunslinger and nodded, “I suppose. I’ve never met one. Though I imagine they look like you, all wolfish and… messy.” 

The gunslinger snorted and clenched his jaw, “What’s yer name, huh?” 

“Hanzo,” The man said, arching a thick eyebrow. “An archer. You, mister gunslinger?”

“Jesse McCree, the finest gunslinger around.” Jesse preened, winking at the archer. Hanzo scoffed and took another drink. 

“Sure, what are you doing in Adlersbrunn?” Hanzo asked, licking his lips. Jesse watched a little too intently. 

“Passin’ through, you?”

“I am not sure, I just… had a feeling.” Hanzo shrugged mysteriously. Jesse grinned before barking out a laugh. 

“Lookin’ for a lover?”

__

The soldier trudged through the forest surrounding the village he’d been called to. He walked quickly and quietly, keeping his head down. The scars across his face often betrayed his true identity, a soldier yes, but an ex-soldier from a fallen kingdom that had long since been disgraced. The Lord who had called upon him had fought with him once, he knew of the soldiers almost supernatural fighting abilities. 

The soldier stepped foot onto the street and immediately felt a dark presence surround him. He walked down the dark street towards the looming castle, eyeing his surroundings warily. The lord was right to call upon him, something was very amiss. 

He shouldered his gun and lowered his head, walking faster towards the castle. 

Something evil was coming. He could feel it.


End file.
